Title: Where, When, Why, Who & Howl Part 22
Author: KateKintail
Rating: R to NC-17
Pairing: Remus/Ned (real historical figure, fictional representation- no harm intended!)
Kinks: BDSM
Disclaimer: Not my characters or world. Just my creative juices. Please don’t sue. I don’t make a dime from this.
Summary: New Companions all around! Remus is in heat and in need of more things than sex…
Word Count for this part: 2,829
Notes: I’m in way over my head this year for pervy_werewolf’s Lusty Month of May. Any feedback you’ve got for me would be useful. Also, this is completely unbetaed, because of time constraints. Sorry!
Part 22
Where: Somewhere in the Middle East
When: 1920
“Of course it would have to be snakes.” Remus said, reluctantly lowering himself down the rope after the Doctor. He looked up at the young man at the top of the crevasse and saw only the characteristic brim of the hat disappearing over the side. Indy hadn’t exactly been thrilled to take on this part of the adventure either. Apparently between an army of rebels and a fifty-foot deep pit with snakes at the bottom, Indiana Jones chose the former.
“Not a snake fan?” the Doctor asked, dropping down onto a ledge and holding tight to the rope to help Remus down beside him.
“No,” Remus said curtly. Though Remus wasn’t fond of them because they were the symbols of Slytherin house, it was Snape who was ultimately responsible for Remus’ clear hatred of snakes. Remus had to admit the prank the Marauders had played on him more than justified Snape’s move to jinx the showers in the Quidditch locker room into spitting out snakes instead of water. But that didn’t make the scaly, hissing, surprise any better for Remus that day when Remus and Sirius had attempted to celebrate a Gryffindor team win with a little shower sex. Trouser snakes Remus could deal with, but real ones? “Not much of a fan, no.”
The ruins were old and unsteady, and Remus hadn’t wanted to risk Apparating down in case the ledge wouldn’t hold them. If he’d been knocked out, they would have no way to escape. And Remus shuddered to think of himself as snake food. But, then, he refused to let the Doctor go down alone. “Got your notebook?” Remus asked. He held his wand up. “Lumos!”
The Doctor had it out already and began scribbling while Remus jotted down notes in his own book. Before them was a portion of a detail-rich carving. There were symbols and representative pictures, and Remus suddenly wished he’d done better in Ancient Runes back at school. “This will take forever,” Remus said, looking down at his notepad with half a dozen squiggles drawn on it and then gazing at the wall with what was probably a few thousand.
“Do you have a better solution?”
Remus thought for a moment, then nodded. He remembered the mapping charm the Marauders had used a few times to copy portions of books over or to get a proper, realistic likeness down on paper; they’d used it on the Marauders’ Map in order to get the dimensions of the school right and all. And now... if he was careful... “Take hold of my arm,” Remus suggested.
“But, Remus--”
“Just do it,” Remus insisted. “Please. I’ve got this.”
The Doctor tucked his notebook back in his pouch, then gripped Remus’ arm quite tightly. Remus took a deep breath and leaned forward, wand in one hand pointed out towards the carving, notebook tightly clutched in the other. If he dropped his wand it would be lost to him, for he wasn’t going to go down there in a sea of snakes for it.
“Steady... steady...” the Doctor repeated. “Keep your balance.”
Remus leaned forward even more, just the side of one foot on the ledge still. “Cartigary!” Light shot out from the wand, blinding the two, but bathing the carving. Squinting, almost unable to see, Remus touched the tip of the wand- still attached to the glowing brightness- to the paper. It linked the two, and symbols began appearing on the page automatically. Unfortunately, the spell created a bit of a jolt, a sort of kick-back, and Remus lost his footing.
For a brief second, he felt nothing beneath him, then arms wrapped around him, pulling him, holding him, practically choking him and cutting off his circulation the way they were gripping parts of him. But he found solid footing again and sighed with great relief, burying his face in the Doctor’s shoulder, their arms wrapped around each other, all three hearts beating like mad.
“Did you... get it?” the Doctor asked, still a little out of breath from the shock of what had almost occurred.
Remus looked down, being careful as he took a step back from the Doctor. He checked the notebook. The first page was filled with tiny markings. He thumbed through the next few pages. “Looks like it’s all here.”
The Doctor smiled. “Well, that was relatively painless.” He reached out for the rope, still dangling down, and suddenly it went slack in his hand. The heavy rope started tumbling down, and the Doctor immediately let go. They watched it fall, like a snake, down into the pit. “Uh-oh.”
They heard fighting up above, and suddenly a body fell straight down. Remus and the Doctor flattened themselves against the wall of the chasm as it passed them. Then they looked down to see it hit the soft cushion of snakes, probably crushing quite a few. But others immediately slithered over the body, moving in so quickly that suddenly only snatches of clothes could be seen amidst the snakes. Remus shuddered and looked up. There was no telling what was happening above or how their friend was faring.
Remus swallowed. He knew they weren’t completely trapped... but without knowing the situation, he wasn’t sure he wanted to risk exposing magic and them by Apparating up there. He turned to the Doctor. “In case we don’t make it out of this... I just wanted to say thank you. You’ve saved me in so many ways and you’ve taken me to see such incredible things over the last few weeks. And... I’m sorry.”
“I’ve enjoyed having you along for the ride, Remus,” the Doctor replied. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
Shaking his head, “I’ve made things... difficult between us. That night in my dormitory... I should never have asked. You’re not... you shouldn’t have had to see me like that- either of me.”
The Doctor smiled. “I’ve been doing this for a long time, Remus. You’ve showed me a lot that I’ve never seen before. But that night there wasn’t anything new to me. I know what you get up to on our stops and all I care about is seeing you enjoy yourself.”
“But that was different. You were right there when I was...” Remus’ cock twitched in his pants, despite his best efforts. It was hard to be in heat and discussing sex without getting hard. “I’m so sorry for putting you in that position and for making it awkward between us.”
The Doctor shook his head. “I was happy to be able to be there for you and share in your healing. That has nothing to do with...”
Remus hung on his words. “Nothing to do with what?”
Shaking his head, the Doctor clapped his hands to Remus’ cheeks and kissed the man reassuringly. He pulled away, looking serious. “We’ll talk about it some time when we’re not in mortal peril.”
Remus nodded. “But, my dear Doctor, when will that be?”
The Doctor smiled. “Take us up.” He wrapped his arms around Remus.
“Are you sure we should risk that?”
“Absolutely,” he answered, nodding. “Indy’s going to need our help.”
*
“In-credible,” said Indy, dividing the word into two for emphasis as he leafed through the filled pages of the notebook before handing it to his colleague, Ned.
Ned hovered there for a minute, then sank onto his small cot. “However did you manage all this in such a short period of time?”
“We’re very efficient copiers,” the Doctor said. “And Indy here bought us all the time we needed.” He clapped the young man on the back, and Indy winced.
“Ribs are a little sore,” he whispered. “And I took a blow to the back- knocked me flat on my face for a second.”
The Doctor tisked and poured him a small bit of brandy from the bottle Ned had brought out for them to toast their accomplishment. Indy drank it down but winced again as swallowed. “Maybe we should get you back to your tent to fix you up?” the Doctor suggested. “That way you can sleep the rest of the pains off.”
“I’ll be fine,” Indiana protested, but the Doctor was hardly fooled.
“Here, I’ll help you up at least.” The Doctor positioned himself under Indy’s arm and, with his own arm around Indy’s waist, helped lift the man to his feet and supported him to keep him standing. The Doctor reached down and picked up the man’s hat, putting it on his own head. Remus laughed at the image of the Doctor, burning it into his brain so he would always remember it. He wished he had a camera, but supposed proper, self-contained cameras hadn’t even been invented yet and Remus had no idea what to do with flash powder.
“Can I get you tea, perchance?” Ned asked, once he was alone with Remus in his tent. “I’m afraid Indy isn’t much for it, and I would be delighted to have someone to sit down and take a cup of English tea with me.” Remus could hardly refuse. And though the tea was simple and certainly nothing as fine as Ianto’s or even Giles’ had been, Remus was glad for the opportunity to spend a few precious moments alone with the actual Lawrence of Arabia.
“I have to admit, I never knew archeology could be so... dangerous.” He had struggled for the most polite word for it, though other choices such as ‘exciting’, ‘adventurous’, and 'terrifying' had come to mind as well.
Ned laughed. “It seems to be that way whenever Indy’s involved. I haven’t seen action like the kind he gets into since the war.” He went quiet and serious for a moment, reflecting on something and focusing on his teacup as he did so.
Remus had a strange desire to ask if Ned knew anything at all about a Stargate, but thought better of it. Instead, he smiled and said, “I’m so glad the Doctor and I could be of help.”
“Oh, a considerable help, to be sure,” Ned agreed quickly. “There’s so much wisdom lost throughout the ages, and so much understanding left to be done here. But cultures and history have no use for laws and boundaries, and I fear soon much of what I have worked for already will be ignored at best.”
Remus offered an “I am sorry to hear that,” and wished he had something more to say, but he could not risk changing history by telling the man of his destiny.
Ned shook his head. “Well there’s nothing for it now. Have to do the best we can, eh? If those buggers in Paris can’t see past the ends of their noses after months of talks...” He sighed deeply. “But, you did not join me in tea to hear me prattle on about politics, I expect.”
“We can speak of whatever you like,” said Remus, automatically.
Ned looked at him deeply, closely. “Can we really?”
Remus drank down the rest of his tea, feeling more nervous by far than he had down in that snake pit. “We can,” he whispered, trying to convey a message with his eyes or send thoughts to the man telepathically.
Ned tilted his head and licked his lips. “I think... I think I have a request to make of you, Remus”
*
There were certain events in Remus’ life that made him both grateful and glad to have been through Transfiguration class at Hogwarts. The first had been the other three Marauders learning how to become animagi so they could keep him company during his transformations. And the latest was being able to stand in T. E. Lawrence’s tent wearing nothing but leather chaps and a smart, black cap. He had Indy’s whip in hand. And he had Ned face down upon the cot, tied at the wrists and ankles.
Remus repeatedly raised the whip and brought it down with encouraging-sounding cracks until he had the hang of it. The sound alone seemed to drive Ned into a state of excitement, so when Remus was finally praised for his technique and instructed to touch whip to arse, Remus agreed. Remus had done some paddling to an extent before, having had a few eccentric clients, but it was nothing compared to this.
The whip in his hand felt like a long, windy extension of himself. Nothing that resembled a snake and, yet, the use of it was cunning and controlling enough. Ned had schooled him on what to do, on likes and dislikes. but had left Remus in charge to deviate as necessary. Ideally, there was supposed to be an audience to watch, but Indiana did not go for that sort of thing either, apparently, and Remus thought that might be pushing his new understanding with the Doctor a bit too far. So the man would just have to be whipped and humiliated in front of an audience of one instead.
Remus did his best. The tail of the whip came down, slicing into the man’s back where there were already handfuls of faint scars. In fact, the man seemed quite pleased with Remus’ scarred appearance, and put all trust in Remus’ experience in order to perform his role admirably.
The rhythm of the whipping was uneven, unpredictable, as a paddle or a cat o’ nine tales would be. Therefore, sometimes Remus would see the man’s body twitch or jump in anticipation, only to relax fully before actually receiving the harsh blow.
At the start, it was only silence, broken by the whip cracks. But as the whip began lashing into the first few layers of flesh, the man began whimpering. Then, several strokes later, he started crying out in pain. His voice was quiet, though Remus supposed the Doctor and Indy would have heard the whip cracks from the start. As they hadn’t come running then to see what was the matter, it was a good bet they would not do so now. So Remus let him whimper and let him cry, though Remus secretly desired nothing more than to lie beside him, holding him, comforting him the way Sirius used to when Remus was torn up on mornings following the full moon.
But Ned didn’t want that. With each cry of pain, Ned wanted more. He squirmed on the bed, trying to break free with only a half-hearted, weak effort. The ropes cut into his joints, leaving marks that would last for days, though not as long as the ones on his back. Ned especially liked when Remus’ aim was true and the whip came smacking down on his arse cheeks. He clenched and released, and Remus watched a rosy flush and red streaks dance before him.
Remus paused in the game to retrieve the teakettle from the fire just outside the tent. The fire was nothing but embers now, and the water was warm at best, but that was all Remus wanted. He stood over Ned and gently poured from the spout, right between the man’s cheeks. Ned yelled out in surprise, but the warmth was not painful. On the contrary, it only served to make him wet... and make him wet himself. Remus smiled, sniffing the scent, and let the whip come down once more upon Ned.
Ned cried out in complete helplessness, looking more human to Remus in that moment than any biography or photograph he’d ever read or seen of the man. Remus pressed his cheek to the cut and bleeding back and jerked himself off until the power and control seeped out of him entirely.
Then he reached up and released Ned’s bonds. Ned didn’t move immediately, except to scrub the back of his hand over his face and sniff back a runny nose. He buried his face into his pillow for a moment, his whole body rising and falling with the deepest of breaths, his world existing of nothing but the pain of the aftermath and the blackness before his eyes. Then Ned lifted his head and smiled reassuringly up at Remus. “Thank you,” he whispered, barely making a sound.
Remus brushed the backs of his fingers tenderly against Ned’s cheeks. “I’ll help you get cleaned up,” he offered.
But Ned shook his head. “I will be fine.”
It was the same sort of fine that Indy claimed to be, and Remus soon found himself gently applying balm to the fresh wounds and wrapping the man in a sheet to keep the impending coldness of the night from chilling him. Ned flat-out refused to be held by Remus, and declined another cup of tea, as well, but he settled back down on the bed with a dressed Remus, happy to discuss the small selection of books he traveled with. Remus was particularly drawn to one well-loved copy of Thomas Malory's Morte D'Arthur. He sat with Ned for the longest time, discussing everything from Arthurian legends to motorcycles.